


The Broom Cupboard

by ShirleyCarlton



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirleyCarlton/pseuds/ShirleyCarlton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending some time hiding from security during a nighttime break-in for a case, Sherlock and John finally come out of the closet. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Broom Cupboard

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to my wonderful and very patient beta's [Shirelockhomes](http://shirelockhomes.tumblr.com), [Hedgehogandotter](http://hedgehogandotter.tumblr.com) and [mydogwatson](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson).

There had been guards in the building after all.  
Sherlock and John had been lucky enough to spot them before they were discovered themselves.

They bolted into a broom cupboard just in time, and then dazedly stood in the half-dark, breathing heavily.

Unsurprisingly, there was barely enough room for two grown men in the confined space. John stood with his back flat against the left wall, while Sherlock had to lean with both hands against that same wall, on either side of John – awkward as it was – in order to keep his balance between the buckets on the floor and the cleaning equipment hanging from the other walls that inhibited him from standing up straight. The pipe of a vacuum cleaner prodded at Sherlock’s back, but it would have been unwise to move it and risk making a noise.  
There was a small, frosted window in the door, through which some of the faint light of the emergency exit lamps in the corridor shone, so they could at least see. Although to be honest, that probably just made the situation even more awkward.

Catching his breath – his nostrils wide – and raising one eyebrow, Sherlock whispered with an intent stare: “That was close.”

John smirked, looking down briefly at Sherlock’s chest. “ _This_ is close,” he whispered back, articulating emphatically.

Sherlock grinned sheepishly and managed a half-shrug in the limited space.

John looked up at the ceiling. He tried to steady his breath, but failed rather spectacularly. He couldn’t help it; his heart was racing, and not so much because of the pickle they were in. It was just that the current setting _way_ too closely resembled the recurring dreams he’d been trying very hard not to have. He could smell Sherlock’s aftershave, feel Sherlock’s breath on his skin, the detective’s mouth only inches from his own.

God, he couldn’t deny it any longer, and suddenly, as he stood there in the dark, all his willpower to even keep trying evaporated into thin air. The feelings he’d been attempting to ignore for months were acutely flooding over him now. It was like an avalanche that had been gaining momentum over the past couple of days, in which the two of them had worked particularly closely and successfully together (with more than an occasional outburst of giggles and laughter between bizarre events and thrilling chases down the streets and alleys of London). And John had had the impression that Sherlock had repeatedly looked at him with an oddly inquisitive expression that made John suspect he was quite possibly not the only one with such feelings.

Right there and then, standing in the dark broom cupboard with Sherlock, John found all his wants and needs narrowing down to just one thing. He desperately wanted to feel the other man’s mouth on his and snog the shit out of him.

If he was ever going to make this move, he might as well just go for it and take his chances straight away.  
Perhaps it was the partial darkness that gave him the courage he had lacked before. 

“Sherlock…” he began in a husky, low voice. “I’ve got to tell you, I feel a sudden urge, as a matter of fact, to…”  
He swallowed.  
No, he couldn’t possibly say this.  
 _What was he thinking?_

“Kiss me,” came a whisper from the shadows right in front of him, startlingly close.

John’s eyes shot up to meet Sherlock’s. His handsome, dark-haired flatmate was looking at him with a rare kind of warmth in his eyes. John’s heartbeat throbbed in his veins. He wasn’t sure whether Sherlock had merely finished his sentence, or was actually telling John to kiss him.  
Either way, the git had deduced his exact thoughts again.

“Is that an order?” John asked, his eyes wide.  
Adrenalin was threatening to reach near-fatal levels in his bloodstream and John was sure he had turned a shade of red not unlike that of Miss Adler’s lipstick - not that he wanted to think of that woman at the moment.

“Yes,” Sherlock said, slowly moving his head another inch closer to John’s face to make it easier for John to bridge the remaining distance, and do as he was told.

Which he did.

**Author's Note:**

> A lovely piece of fanart inspired by this story, drawn by the wonderful Johix, can be found [here](http://prettyrealisticjohnlockfanart.tumblr.com/post/82026146192/johix-catching-his-breath-his-nostrils-wide).
> 
> More johnlock fanart (sometimes NSFW!) by various artists [on my Tumblr blog](http://www.prettyrealisticjohnlockfanart.tumblr.com).


End file.
